


The Relief

by hgcl2



Series: 1888 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Victorian, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgcl2/pseuds/hgcl2





	The Relief

Alfred stared at the framed picture in his hands, his brows furrowed as he scanned each face.

The picture showed a large family of 11, standing together in a vast garden. The children had bright smiles on their faces, while the adults remained stern. To the right, a tall, dark boy stood behind a very thin, smaller boy. Both looked serious, perhaps miserable. Unlike the rest of the family, they were standing rather off to the side, as if they were not truly part of it. Alfred ghosted his fingers over their faces, biting down on his lip as he did so.

All these years, Alfred had tried his very best to forget. His life has been filled with misery after he became the head of the Barclay family, and he just wished he could forget all those stupid mistakes he made. But he could not, could he? They were always present, always reminding him of how he had destroyed everything. How, despite believing everything would be alright, his life came tumbling down before his very eyes. That childish whispering voice, reminding him of what he'd done.

Alfred was only 17 then, and though many years had passed he remembered it like it was yesterday.

_He had made Edward leave. They merely found one of his shoes. He was sick, had always been. He would not survive alone in the woods. They looked for a year to no avail. They buried an empty casket. He drove Edward to his death._

He remembered how Charles had come back at once and searched frantically for days and weeks and months. He could still recall the moment he finally broke down, the moment he crumbled.

And then his father died only a year later, and Charles took no time in disappearing. He vividly remembered the guilt he felt when he was named the family head after Charles' departure. The burden. The sharp pang in his chest when he read his father's journals, words that he had written over the years to _Charles_ , not him. His father had once seemed unbreakable, but the pages were filled with words of pain and sorrow and agony over his lost child.

Sometimes his brother would haunt him in his dreams; the same sickly, helpless boy, sneering. Sometimes, he thought, it felt like he was still there. Sometimes, while lying awake at ungodly hours at night, he thought that perhaps Edward would never let him be happy. He often found himself wondering if he was allowed to be happy, if he even had the right to feel any kind of joy after all he had done.

Setting the picture down, Alfred rose from his armchair with a groan and made his way to the window.

_He had tried to forget, but he would never be able to run away from his past. No amount of crying or praying or asking God for forgiveness would change the past. Everything would remain the same._

It was late December, and the falling snow was starting to set, creating a beautiful scene covering the pavements and rooftops purely white.

Alfred smiled to himself as he recalled a jolly winter day, sometime when he was just a boy.

_The once vivid green garden was now pearly white, and 3 children were running around in the snow. The tall, older boy carried his fascinated younger brother on his shoulders as he ran, laughing loudly when a snowball barely missed him. Alfred giggled and started running towards them._

_"Alfred! Charles! Mother is calling for you! The Christmas party is about to start!"_

_Alfred whipped his head around and spotted Lucille with the shy Rose Mary clinging to her arm, waving her arm as she called for them. Everything had felt so right then._

_They were all there, they were all together and nothing was wrong. It created such a warm feeling in his chest, such nostalgia. He could still hear the music and the laughter and the warmth._ Alfred closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

He could never forget his past, because forgetting would mean forgetting all the good times, too.

He walked towards the drawing room and peered in, a soft smile on his face when he saw his two little girls sat sleepily around the fireplace while their mother ran her fingers through their hair as she hummed a gentle tune. The Christmas feast earlier that evening had been grand and hectic. Many of Alfred's friends and relatives had gathered. Even Lucille had shown up, despite living so very far away. Rose Mary sent a postcard from America. His daughters had spent the evening running around the house and talking and singing, it was no wonder they were exhausted. In contrast to earlier in the evening, the room was still and tranquil as ever. His wife looked up for a mere second and smiled at him before turning her attention back to the girls.  Alfred held his breath.

It had been so very long since he found himself at peace.

_Perhaps,_ Alfred thought, _perhaps its time to forgive myself. Perhaps Edward would not mind me being happy._


End file.
